


Stranger

by TreacleTart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Gen, Hogwarts Era, Self-Acceptance, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6855097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreacleTart/pseuds/TreacleTart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Millicent looks in the mirror briefly before leaving the room and barely recognizes herself. It is as if a distant cousin stares back at her. Someone vaguely familiar, but at the same time almost unrecognizable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 7 Years Old

  
Beautiful Banner by Kitcath @ TDA!

Millicent Bulstrode stands in her room, gazing into the mirror that hangs on the back of the door. Bright green robes drown her slight frame, making her look as if she’s wearing a sack. As she studies herself, she pulls her hair back into a tight pony tail and eyes her cheekbones. Deciding that she likes how it looks, she ties it back with a black elastic.

Just as she finishes, her mother enters the room, dismayed to find that she still isn’t ready. “Millie, dear, what are you doing in your brother’s robes? What happened to the pretty pink ones I picked out for you?”

“I don’t know, mummy. I lost them,” Millie says, refusing to make eye contact. She glances at her mattress nervously and kicks at the carpet.

Her mother catches her staring at her bed and sighs. “You haven’t been hiding your clothing again, have you?”

“No, mummy. The robes are lost.”

More awkward glances towards the opposite side of the room confirm her mother’s suspicions. “So if I call Tinka in here right now, he won’t find them?”

Millicent shakes her head and stares intently at the ground.

“Fine then. Tinka,” her mother calls.

With a pop, a house elf appears in Millicent’s bedroom. “Yes, mistress.”

“My daughter seems to have misplaced her pink dress robes. I would like you to find them.”

“Yes, mistress,” the elf squeaks a second time as he sets about searching the room. Millicent watches nervously as he checks the closet and her armoire. He investigates her toy chest, but finds it empty. He looks behind her bookshelf and then under her bed, barely pausing to notice that she has stopped breathing entirely.

Pausing for a moment, the elf scans the room looking for places he might’ve missed. “Mistress, it looks as though…” he starts, pausing as he notices a small piece of pink fabric hanging out from under the mattress. Gently, he tugs at it revealing a set of garish robes. “Here it is, Mistress.”

“Thank you, Tinka. Please, take those downstairs and iron them. The party guests will be arriving shortly and I can’t have Millicent looking as if she’s slept in her robes.”

“Right away, Mistress,” the house elf says, disappearing with a pop.

“Millie, why were you hiding your robes again?” her mother asks in a stern tone.

Staring at the ground, Millicent tries to think of a way to answer without making her mother mad, but the words escape her. “I don’t know,” she mutters.

Her mother frowns at the response. “How can you not know? That’s the third time this week. What’s wrong with them?”

“I don’t like them,” Millicent says, her voice trembling as she speaks. She knows her mother won’t like her answer, but she can’t think of anything better to say and besides, it is the truth.

“What don’t you like about them?” her mother inquires, trying to hide her impatience.

Millicent shrugs. Her mother is making her angry face and she knows that means she should stop talking.

“Tell me the truth. Why don’t you like the robes?”

“I don’t like the color pink,” she whispers, hoping that if she speaks quietly enough her mother might not hear her. 

Her mother’s mouth stretches into a thin line and her brows knit into deep ridges. “And what color would you prefer to wear?”

“Green,” she says.

For a moment, she thinks her mother might just say okay and let her wear her brother’s robes, but as soon as she starts to speak, it becomes clear that that isn’t the case. “Green is for boys,” she says in a tone that implies that there will be no further discussion of the matter.

A second later, Tinka returns with freshly pressed pink robes and hands them to her mother.

“I won’t wear them,” Millicent argues, stamping her foot in frustration. “I hate pink and those ruffles look stupid!”

“Don’t you dare get smart with me, young lady. You are going to put these robes on whether you like it or not,” her mother demands, taking an ominous step closer to her daughter. “Keep resisting and I will petrify you and put them on you myself. Now, you have five minutes to be dressed and ready downstairs to greet your guests. If I have to come back up here and get you, you’re going to regret it.”

Her mother turns to walk out of the door, but stops short. “And take your hair out of that hideous ponytail. You look much more ladylike with your hair down.”

As her mother leaves, Millicent does as she is told, changing quickly into the pink robes she hates so fiercely and removing the elastic from her long hair. She looks in the mirror briefly before leaving the room and barely recognizes herself. It is as if a distant cousin stares back at her. Someone vaguely familiar, but at the same time almost unrecognizable.


	2. 12 Years Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millicent, Age 12

It is close to midnight and the Slytherin common room is dark. All of the students are sleeping soundly, except one. Millicent stands in the bathroom before a large mirror. Her shirt hangs limp on the handle of the door as she studies the reflection of herself.

Her once flat chest has grown mounds of flesh and her narrow hips have begun to curve. The soft, youthful roundness of her face has been replaced by a more angular jaw line and defined cheek bones. From one day to the next, she feels that she can hardly recognize the girl staring back at her.

She thinks of the other girls, still slender and lanky and wishes that she looked like them. Something about her early development makes her feel at odds with herself, regardless of how often Astoria exclaims that she has a perfect figure. She recalls the comments about her ever expanding bosom and instead of finding solace, shudders.

Picking up her wand, Millicent aims it at her chest and whispers “Reducio.” She waits, analyzing her breasts for any sign that they’ve shrunk. She hopes that when she finishes her chest will be flat like it was before. Disappointment sets in as she realizes that they look the same.

A noise at the door causes panic to flood through Millicent’s body. She rips her shirt from the handle and flings it over her head. She has it halfway on when Pansy appears in the doorway.

“What are you doing, Millie?” she asks, sleep still heavy in her voice.

As Millicent pulls her shirt over her head, she turns to face Pansy. “Nothing,” she mutters. “Just couldn’t sleep was all.”

“Why do you have your wand out?” Pansy questions, confusion evident on her face. “Is everything okay?”

A bright red flush creeps up Millicent’s cheeks and she shifts nervously, avoiding eye contact. “Everything’s fine. Just grabbed it out of habit was all.”

Pansy narrows her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

Millicent pretends to fuss with the items laid out around the sink. “I’m just going to brush my teeth and then I’ll be headed back to bed. Don’t worry about me,” she says, hoping silently that Pansy will decide it’s not worth the hassle and go away.

“Alright, Millie. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to. If you decide you do want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks,” she says, glad that she won’t be forced to explain something she barely understands herself.

Once Pansy slips from the doorway and shuts the door behind her, Millicent relaxes. She listens for a moment waiting for any sounds that might mean someone else is awake. When she hears only silence, she returns to the mirror and lifts her shirt up for a second time.

“Reducio,” she tries again, hoping that she just did it wrong the first time.

When she once again has no results, she accepts defeat. She slips her shirt back on and whispers “Knox” as she leaves the bathroom. Quietly, trying her best not to wake any of her house mates, she slips back into her bed.

Sleep does not find Millicent for hours. Instead, she lies awake, wondering why she feels so uncomfortable with her new frame. She resolves to work on becoming more confident in her own skin.


	3. 15 Years Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millicent, Age 15

Pansy is sitting on a sofa in the Slytherin dungeons when Millicent enters the room. At the sight of her, she approaches her, seeing that she has a book in hand and is mercifully alone.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Millicent mutters, staring down at her shoes.

Putting down her book, Pansy sits up straight and looks her in the eyes. “Sure Millie. What’s on your mind?”

Tentatively, Millicent takes a seat next to Pansy on the sofa. She glances quickly around the common room to make sure they are truly alone. The fear that someone will overhear what she’s saying nearly paralyzes her. “I’m not really sure where to start exactly.”

“The beginning seems like a good place,” Pansy says, a snarky smile turning the corners of her mouth upwards.

Millicent laughs. “If only it were that simple.”

“Is there anything I can do to make this easier for you?”

“I don’t think so,” Millicent starts. A surge of adrenaline bursts through her and her hands begin to shake slightly. Perspiration beads across her brow line and her complexion washes out completely. She places her hands neatly in her lap, trying to hide the shaking from Pansy.

“You know you can tell me anything Millie. I’m here for you.” Scooting a bit closer, Pansy wraps her arms around her and pulls her into a tight embrace.

The bit of comfort gives Millicent the strength she needs and she decides to just spit it out before she has time to second guess herself. “I think I’m a boy,” she mumbles rapidly. The words come out all mashed together and jumbled.

Pansy lets go of her. “What?”

“I said, I think that I’m a boy,” Millicent repeats more slowly this time.

“How do you know?” Pansy asks, her voice quiet.

Millicent takes a moment to think it through. She thinks of all the times that she felt compelled to hide her pink frilly robes as a child and how boys clothing just felt so much more right on her. “I don’t know how I know, but I do. I always have.”

“Alright. Let me rephrase. What was it that first made you realize that you were a boy?”

“I have just always felt this disconnect between my mind and my body. When I was a kid, it was the simple things like hating to play with dolls. I always wanted to play sports and climb trees. I looked up to my older brother and wanted to look just like him.

Once I even managed to chop off all of my hair with my older brother’s wand. My mum flipped out and force me to take a hair growing potion, but for a few happy moments I felt like I looked more how I see myself in my head.”

The two of them fall into a temporary silence and Millicent worries that Pansy won’t want to be friends with her anymore. Thoughts of her friends and family abandoning her float through her mind. She knows all too well how prejudiced Purebloods can be.

After several tense moments, Pansy speaks. “I’m not sure that being athletic or looking up to your brother makes you a boy. I know that the old Pureblood families believe that all women should be demure and dainty, but if you look around there are lots of other girls who like sports.”

Millicent frowns. “It’s not just that. I don’t feel comfortable with who I see in the mirror. My reflection is as much me as you are. I’ve been binding my breasts for ages and even when I’m forced to where women’s clothing, I always try to make sure it’s as loose as possible. It’s like whenever I picture myself in my mind, I see a boy.”

“Okay,” Pansy says, meeting Millicent’s gaze. It’s clear that she’s unsure of how to respond.

“I’ve just always been a boy just like you’ve always been a girl.”

“So what now?” Pansy asks, genuine concern etched into the lines of her face.

Leaning back into the sofa, Millicent takes a moment to consider. “I’m not sure. You’re the first person that I’ve told. I was worried that everyone would think I’m some sort of freak.”

“I think you’re underestimating our friends. Sure, there might be some people who don’t understand initially, but if you give them time to come around, I know they’ll be there in the long run.”

“I wish I could say the same for my mum,” Millicent whispered sadly.

Pansy nodded. “I can understand your concern there.”

“I just don’t even know how to approach it with her. I feel like she’d start screaming without listening to what I had to say.”

“If you want some support, I could come with you,” Pansy offered, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Thanks. I was actually thinking of going to talk to Madame Pomfrey first. Remember in third year when we had to take that health class for a few days and she said that we were always welcome to talk to her about personal issues. I thought maybe she’d understand me better and that she could help get me in touch with one of the Transitional Healers over at St. Mungo’s.”

Smiling, Pansy said, “That sounds like a great idea. And just so you know, I’m here for you no matter what. If there’s anything I can do to help, you just ask.”


	4. 15.5 Years Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millicent, Age 15.5

Millicent leans against a wall in the hospital wing, her head resting against the window. It feels like it’s been ages since she arrived here, but knows it’s only been a handful of minutes. Time has practically stopped, dragging on at a flobberworm’s pace. She can feel her courage draining with every second that passes.

Just when she thinks she’s can’t wait any longer; Madame Pomfrey rounds the corner, smiling brightly at her. “My apologies my dear. I just wanted to make sure my other patient was settled so I can give you all the time you need. Why don’t we step into my office and we can chat about what’s on your mind.”

Unable to form words, Millicent nods in agreement and follows the matron to her desk.

Once they are seated, Madame Pomfrey speaks. “Millicent, I just want you to know that whatever you say to me here will remain between you and I. Even the Minister of Magic couldn’t order me to report on your medical files, so please be assured that you can speak honestly with me. I’m here to help you in any way I can, so don’t be afraid.”

“Thank you,” Millicent manages to choke out, her voice cracking from nerves.

“Now, you’ve said that you’d like to talk about your gender identity. Why don’t we start with you telling me what exactly brought you here today?”

Even though Madame Pomfrey is smiling and her tone amicable, Millicent can’t help but to fear that it will all change once she starts speaking. After several false starts, she finally finds her voice. “Erm…well… I’m not sure how to say it really…but I think I might be a..err..boy.”

Madame Pomfrey doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “How long have you felt this way?”

“For a long time really. As a kid, I never really felt like I fit in, but I don’t think I really realized that I was the wrong gender until I was a bit older. Maybe around eleven or twelve? It was like one day I just woke up and realized that my outer appearance didn’t represent who I actually am.”

“And since coming to that realization, how have you felt?”

Millicent takes a moment to think. “It depends on the day. Some are worse than others. Some days I wake up and feel fine. I’m able to forget about how wrong my body feels, but other days…”

“What are the other days like?” Madame Pomfrey asks, trying to encourage Millicent to open up.

“Well, other days I can’t get past how mixed up I feel. Some days I can’t even look at myself in the mirror because seeing this stranger in front of me makes me ache somewhere deep inside. Some days, I bind my breasts and even that doesn’t do the trick because in my mind, I still know they’re there, just hidden under layers of cloth. Those days, the weight of it all feels paralyzing.”

“I see,” says Madame Pomfrey, nodding slowly. “It sounds to me like you are suffering from gender dysphoria, which basically means that your psychological identity doesn’t match your biological sex. Does that sound like an accurate assessment to you?”

Millicent nods, dropping her gaze to her hands which are folded neatly in her lap. She’s waiting for Madame Pomfrey to tell her how weird she is and then ship her off to St. Mungo’s.

“Well, my dear, it sounds to me like you are…”

“A freak?” Millicent cuts her off before she can finish. Her voice warbles with emotions.

Worry lines appear at the corners of Madame Pomfrey’s mouth and eyes and her brows knit together with concern. “Not at all. Millicent, being transgender is completely normal. You aren’t the first person, nor will you be the last person to come to me with these concerns. In fact, I think you’ll be pleased to know that there is a whole community of trans people living quite happily.”

Slowly, Millicent looks up at her. “So what do I do next?”

“My recommendation is that I put you in touch with a gender therapist at St. Mungo’s. I have a friend, Sarah, who works in that department and she’d be of great help to you. Basically, she’ll talk with you and help you decide the best path forward so that you can realize your true self. If that sounds alright, I can send her an owl later this afternoon.”

“Sure,” Millicent says, relieved that things are going so well.

Madame Pomfrey takes out a couple of pieces of parchment and hands them to her. “These brochures have a bit of information about the different parts of the process. You can look through them when you have some time, but the gist of it all is about the process of transitioning. In my day, there weren’t many resources available and often trans people were forced to live in the shadows, but now society as a whole has a better understanding and acceptance of what being trans means. 

St. Mungo’s has a wealth of resources. As I’ve said, they have gender counselors. They also have support groups of people going through or who have already gone through the process that can give you some guidance and knowledge. There are also many different types of hormone potions to help you began your physical transformation and should you decide to do it, there is also a gender reassignment procedure. It can be a long process, but it’s very rewarding in the end to finally look how you feel.”

“Thank you,” Millicent chokes out, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

Madame Pomfrey looks concerned. “What’s wrong dear?”

“Nothing,” Millicent says, the tears beginning to flow. “It’s just a relief to know that there are all of these resources out there.”

Smiling, Madame Pomfrey pats Millicent’s hand. “How about I give you a few minutes to think things through? I’ll go owl Sarah for you and when I come back, if you’ve thought of any more questions or have any more concerns we can go over them.”

“Thank you,” Millicent whispers, feeling a sense of calm washing over her. “That would be perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! 
> 
> I was so excited to write this chapter because it’s where Millicent really begins to make decisions. I always thought Madame Pomfrey would’ve been really helpful and understanding, so I enjoyed getting to write her as well.
> 
> I’d love to know what you thought of this chapter, so if you have any feedback, please feel free to leave it in the comment box below.
> 
> ~Kaitlin/TreacleTart


	5. 17 Years Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millicent, Age 17

Millicent paces the empty hall of the fourth floor at St. Mungo’s, his footsteps echoing loudly against the linoleum. For the first time in his life, Millicent feels like his body is starting to match his mind. He’s chopped his hair short and spiked it like most of the other boys and with his newest set of bindings, his breasts are almost completely invisible. With the course of hormone potions he’s been taking recently, little bits of stubble have even begun to grow in on his chin.

“How are you feeling?” Pansy asks, watching her friend with concern.

Stopping, Millicent turns to her and half smiles. “Nervous, but glad to be finally doing this. It seems like I’ve been waiting for it for ages. But still, there’s a little part of me that’s scared something might go wrong.”

Pansy reaches out taking Millicent’s hand into her own. “You’re going to be fine. Remember what the Head Healer said. They’ve performed hundreds of gender reassignment procedures and they’ve all gone smoothly. It sounds like it’s mostly just advanced transfiguration at this point anyway. The hormone potions are really what’s doing the majority of the work.”

“I know. I just can’t help, but be a little worried. Hospital visits are always a bit nerve wrecking.”

“Of course,” Pansy says, giving his hand a squeeze. “But just think how much better you’ll feel as your true self. I for one can’t wait. I just want you to be happy and I know you’ll be so much happier once this is over.”

Millicent nods, staring down at his hand in Pansy’s. “You’re right. I’m ready to finally see myself in the mirror.”

Just then, a Healer walks in, interrupting the conversation. “Are you Millicent Bulstrode?”

“Yes. That’s me,” Millicent says, dropping his gaze to the ground.

“We’re ready to start the procedure. Is this your emergency contact here?” the healer asks, gesturing towards Pansy.

“She is.”

“What is your name?” the healer asks, studying the clipboard in her hand.

“Pansy Parkinson,” she replies, watching as the nurse scribbles her name on the chart.

“Very well,” the healer says, turning to face Pansy. “The procedure will last about two hours in total and then Millicent will be in recovery for the night, mainly so we can make sure that everything is functioning as it should be. You’ll be able to pick him up around ten tomorrow morning. The attending healer will discuss follow up care with you both at that point as well as making sure you are stocked on hormone potions. If there are any complications, you will be notified immediately.”

Millicent and Pansy both nod their understanding.

“Do either of you have any questions?”

“No, I think I’m alright,” Millicent answers, although he’s feeling a bit queasy.

Pansy simply smiles and shakes her head.

“Great. We best be on our way over to the procedure room then. We’ll be in touch soon to let you know how everything went, Ms. Parkinson.”

Pansy is about to walk away when Millicent wraps his muscular arms around her. “Thank you for being here for me.”

“Of course, Millie. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Without another word, Millicent releases his grip and heads down the hall after the Healer.

 

The next morning, Pansy arrives at St. Mungo’s at ten sharp. She is dressed to the nines in luxurious satin robes and her hair is curled into an ornate up do. She looks as if she’s headed to a very prestigious party.

“Good morning, Ms. Parkinson,” the Healer at the front desk of the fourth floor says. “Millicent’s procedure went exactly as planned and his recovery has been smooth. He’s just going over the last few details with the Head Healer and then he should be ready to go home. You can have a seat in the waiting room if you’d like.”

“Thank you, but to be honest, I’m too excited to sit at the moment. I hardly slept last night because of the anticipation. I’m just so happy for him. I can’t tell you how long he’s wanted this.”

The healer smiles broadly. “Of course. It should just be a moment.”

A few minutes later, Pansy turns to see a man striding down the hallway. His broad shoulders are pulled back and his every step radiates confidence. Charcoal robes fit his frame, complementing his muscular build and even from the distance, she can see the way his eyes sparkle.

It takes Pansy a second to realize who she’s looking at, but when she does, she goes sprinting down the hall at him. “Millie!” she shouts as she flings herself into his arms. Pausing, she looks up at him. “Do you still want me to call you Millie?”

“Actually, I was thinking that I’d like my name to be Myles,” he says, a smile spreading across his face.

“Alright. Myles it is. I just can’t believe it! You look incredible. You look like…”

Myles knits his eyebrows when Pansy stops mid-sentence. “I look like what?”

Tears well up in Pansy’s eyes. “You look like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! 
> 
> This is the final chapter of this story. I really wanted to end it on a high note with Millicent finally having the chance to live life as the person he was born to be. And I was so happy that Pansy was there for him through it all. 
> 
> I’d love to know what you thought of it, so feel free to leave some feedback in the comment’s section below.
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> ~Kaitlin/TreacleTart

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! 
> 
> This story was originally posted on HPFF for The Non-Cisgender Challenge. The story spans 5 chapters and each chapter deals with a different moment in Millicent’s life. This is my first time writing a Non-Cisgender character, so if anything stands out to you as inaccurate or you have any suggestions on how to make it better, please let me know in a review below. 
> 
> Thank you as always for reading! 
> 
> ~Kaitlin/TreacleTart


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